


Portraits of a Romance

by Professor_Saber



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, Romance, whouffaldi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2018-11-06 17:11:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 12,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11040609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Professor_Saber/pseuds/Professor_Saber
Summary: Little pieces of the romance and relationship between Clara and the Doctor.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> These are just little bits I've written when I've gotten stuck on a larger, kinda/sorta more gen fic I'm working on. This diverges from canon somewhere, but I haven't decided where. It doesn't (necessarily) go with my other work, "Their Song Is Almost Over."

What made them work, Clara decided, wasn't the running or the adventure.  It wasn't things like escaping sand piranhas or infiltrating Dalek battle fleets; it wasn't visits to Regency England or the second-most beautiful garden planet in all of time and space.

It was the quiet moments, together, when the TARDIS was just drifting in the Vortex.  When her Doctor was fussing over her.  When they were curled up in bed, their minds linked telepathically, knowing the depth of their feelings for each other in a way that was not humanly possible.

It was when he was adorably clueless when she brought up anything sexual.  It was when he went on about the superiority of Time Lords and then realized who he was talking to, and the adorable way he'd blush when she teased him about it.

It wasn't that he showed her the universe.  It was that he was showing her _his_ universe.

* * *

What made them work, the Doctor decided, wasn't the running or the adventure.  It wasn't the physical aspects of their relationship, which he was more keen on than he let on.  It wasn't that he'd found a way to ensure that he would never lose her.

He'd found someone who understood him.  She loved him unconditionally.  When he was full of rage at the injustices of the universe.  When he was on the edges of becoming the Time Lord Victorious.  She was the light in his darkness.

She had darkness, too, and rage, and once he worried they'd push each other into it so thoroughly that they, together, would be the Hybrid.  But he couldn't believe that anymore.  She really _was_ his "carer"; his conscience in physical form.  It was that she had emulated the best parts of him, and not the worst.

It was her eyes, and the looks she gave him that made him melt without her even realizing it.  It was that she was so tiny he had to lean down to hold her.  It was the way she teased him when he finally realized that she was flirting with him.

He had seen the universe, and it had lost much of its wonder.  But she hadn't.  _She_ had become his universe.

* * *

 "Your choice today," he told her as she walked into the console room.  "Anywhere, whenever, wherever."

"Here," she said, and when he turned to look at her, he noticed she was still in her nightie.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"I'm fine, Doctor," she said.  "Just a little tired."

"Right," he said, holding her shoulders.  "Does that mean... ah..."

She smiled.  "It means I want to lay back in bed and fall asleep, and I want you next to me."

The Doctor nodded, and soon they were back in bed, Clara cuddled up next to him.

"Doctor," she asked, "how long have we been together?"

The Doctor thought about it for a moment.  "Do you mean travelling?  Romantically?  Space married?"

She giggled.  "You actually said 'space married.'  And I guess I mean since then, yeah."

"I don't know."

She yawned.  "You're a Time Lord.  Shouldn't you be able to keep track?"

"I don't even know how old I am," he said.  "But if I had to guess?  I think we're getting close to twenty years."

"I like that," she said.  "I want twenty hundred more."

"We will," he said, kissing her forehead as she fell asleep.  "I promise."

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara is feeling very horny. The Doctor, however, doesn't always understand this. Fortunately for her, the TARDIS might actually be willing to help him get the message. Or mock her; Clara's not sure which.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't expect the TARDIS to play any role in this one. NSFW, obviously.

Sometimes, Clara preferred the quiet nights she had with the Doctor.  Just lying in his arms, his consciousness touching the edge of hers and showing her the supernovae that went off in his mind's eye whenever he was near her.

Sometimes, she preferred the nights of passion, when they joined to make love in the truest sense of the phrase.

And sometimes, she preferred the nights of lust, when they just _fucked_ with wild abandon.

She was pretty sure it was that last kind of night she wanted, a short time after they'd sorted out that business with the _Flying Dutchman_.  While her husband moped around the console room, she found herself rooting through the extra-large closet in her room, where she kept all the things she didn't want their "guests" accidentally finding in the main TARDIS wardrobe.  Not after that incident with Princess Alice.

She rooted through lingerie, corsets, and a negligee or two, wondering how direct she needed to be.  Sometimes, her lover could be clueless about such things. Even when she was broadcasting intensely erotic images into his head, let alone dressed alluringly.

Yet she felt like teasing him, too, and she decided to forego more overtly sexual outfits in favor of a silk ensemble that showed a bit of cleavage and really emphasized her figure.

She also put on some rather flattering heels, in case he still didn't get the point.

By the time she got back to the console room, swinging her hips as she walked, he was gone.

"Oh, hell," she muttered.  She walked up to the console.  "I don't suppose you could tell me where he went, could you?"

The TARDIS beeped in what seemed like a flirtatious manner, and Clara saw herself on the screens.  Wearing the outfit she was wearing now, and straddling him.

"Very funny," Clara said.  "Yes, I get that you creep on us and record everything we do.  And will do, I guess.  But I'd _really_ appreciate it if you could show me where he is now.  _Right_ now."

The view changed again, to a blank screen.

"Fine, be that way," Clara muttered, walking away from the console.

She turned back to face the console just before she left.

"For the record," she said, "I thought we were on good terms now.  Hell, you enabled us getting together in the first place!  So if you would _please_ —"

"Clara, who are you talking to?" the Doctor asked from behind her, and Clara jumped.

"Doctor!" she shouted.  "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Sorry," he said, actually apologetic.  "But what were you doing?"

"Talking to the TARDIS," she admitted.  "But I'd like to ask the questions, thanks.  Where the hell were you?"

"Well, I needed to stop by my workshop," he said, removing a very 1980's cell phone from one of his pockets.  There was a large, clockwork device added to the back.  "Ghost detector.  Seemed like a good idea, after the Drum and now the _Dutchman_."

"Yeah, I suppose," Clara said.

He frowned a little.  "Question for you: why are you dressed like that?  I'd suppose you were tired, but you're wearing those ridiculous shoes again.  Why are you wearing those ridiculous shoes again?"

"Oh," Clara said innocently, leaning back on the railing and flicking her hair.  "No reason."

She tried to put an image in the Doctor's head: her, pushing him against the wall, dropping to her knees, undoing his trousers.

The Doctor blushed, finally receiving the message.  "Oh."

"Yes, _ohhh_ ," she purred, walking over to him and grabbing his coat's lapels.  "Would you like more previews, or should we get down to business?"

"Well," he said, pointing to the center console.

Clara turned, not sure what to expect.  She saw that, again, the TARDIS was showing her and the Doctor shagging on its screens.  Their wedding night, she realized immediately.

"Why is she showing us that?" the Doctor asked.

"Don't know, don't care," Clara said, pulling the Doctor down into a very wet and very deep kiss.

"You know," he managed to say, "I'm hoping that knowing everything in this ship is recorded—"

"I've known that for a long time, thanks," Clara said.

"—I just don't want it to, you know, get upset by it."

Clara suppressed a giggle.  "She's just being my wingwoman.  Now, would you concentrate on the snogging, _please_? Or the shagging, preferably?"

He hesitated, until Clara reached towards his belt.

"Shagging," he said breathlessly.  "Definitely shagging."

"Wonderful," Clara said, melting into his arms.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara might have an augmented lifespan, but she's still feeling her age.

Clara was sitting on a couch in the TARDIS library, surrounded by half a dozen leather-bound books she had pulled at random from the shelves.  She didn't care about any of them.

Her feet were resting on a very, very battered copy of the TARDIS manual.  She did care about that one, if only because she wished the Doctor really _had_ hurled it into a supernova when he disagreed with it.  She now understood the feeling.

She sighed and stared at her hands.  They didn't look like an old woman's hands.  But that's what she was: a very, very old woman.

At some point in the last—she shuddered—century, the Doctor had taught her Gallifreyan, and she was fully capable of reading the thousands of characters used to write the language.  Which was how she managed to find that little portion about measuring one's own timeline.

She had always thought it funny that the Doctor, for a supposed Time _Lord_ , had no idea how old he was.  She'd recently poked fun at that, a few weeks ago, and he had retorted that she didn't know how old _she_ was anymore, either.

And then she'd found the TARDIS manual, complete with a bookmark _right_ on the page about measuring the age of objects, and people.

"I fucking hate you," she said, staring at the wall.  "I know it was you.  Making me insecure, is that it?"

The TARDIS responded by moving a bookshelf from the depths of the library to directly in front of her, then expelling a photo album from the top shelf, forcing Clara to dodge quickly before it could hit her in the face.

"Bitch," she muttered, before glancing at the cover.  A card was preserved there.  It read:

_The honour of your presence is requested_

_At the marriage of_

_CLARA ELISABETH OSWALD_

_And_

_DR. JOHN BASIL SMITH_

_On Saturday, the Third of June_

_Two thousand and seventeen_

_(28674/811x12 482/orange)_

_At four o'clock in the afternoon_

_(British Summer Time)_

_St. Cedd's Church_

_Blackpool_

"And you're showing me my wedding album _why_?" Clara asked.

This time, the TARDIS had no response.

"I repeat," Clara said.  "Bitch!"

"Clara?" the Doctor called, and she turned to see him descend the staircase, holding a bouquet of roses and grinning like an idiot.

"Found your old woman, have you," she said flatly.

"Old?" the Doctor asked, still (to Clara's annoyance) grinning like an idiot.  "I wouldn't call you old, Clara."

He tried to hand her the flowers.  Clara pointedly ignored them.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.  Then his eyes caught the wedding album.  " _Oh_."

"Oh?" Clara asked, glaring at him.

"I," he began.  "I, uh…  I thought it would be a surprise."

" _What_ would be a surprise?" Clara asked, genuinely confused.  "That I'm a hundred thirty-seven?"

"What?"

"My age," Clara said.  "I found the TARDIS manual."  She kicked it with her foot.  "I got the TARDIS to tell me _exactly_ how old I am, and I'm a hundred thirty-seven."

"But that's young!" the Doctor said.  "You're basically a Time Lady, so that's very, very young.  Actually, if you were, our relationship would be highly illegal.  Age of consent isn't until a hundred fifty.  Though that might be in Gallifreyan years..."

"What does it matter?" Clara asked bitterly.  "I'm fucking _old_.  Everyone I've ever known is dead."

The Doctor frowned.  "Time machine, Clara."

"You know what I mean."

"Actually, I really don't," the Doctor said.  "You're being entirely unreasonable."

"Shut up."

"And if you're upset about our anniversary," the Doctor said, "that's only because I wanted to surprise you!  I didn't forget!"

"Our anniversary?" Clara asked.

The Doctor pointed at the wedding album with the flowers.

"That anniversary?" Clara asked.

"Yes!" the Doctor said.  "We've been married a hundred years, Clara!"

Tears formed in Clara's eyes.  "A hundred years?"

The Doctor immediately dropped the roses to the floor, and swept the books and album from the couch to sit next to her.  "Don't be upset, Clara."

"I'm not upset," Clara said as he put his arms around her.  "I can't believe it's been that long."

"You didn't know?"

"I had no idea," Clara said, looking up at her husband.  "The TARDIS tossed that at me.  The album.  I thought she was mocking me."  She smiled.  "Maybe being really old isn't so bad after all."

The Doctor was silent for a long moment.  "So you're...happy?  That it's been this long?"

Clara giggled.  "I am so, _so_ happy," she said, and kissed him.  "And you actually knew it was coming up?"

"I might be off by a few months," the Doctor admitted.  "Or years.  Maybe you should show me how to get the TARDIS to measure how old you are, so we can pinpoint it exactly."

"Then I could tell you how old _you_ are."

"Or we could just say it's today."

"We could," she said, snuggling up against him.  She wiped her eyes with her wrist.  "So, I take it you had something really romantic planned."

"Dinner at the Shining Nebula of Rix," he said.  "Then night at the third-most romantic planet in the universe."

"Third-most?" Clara asked.

"We've been banned from the second-most," the Doctor said.  "I know you had a lot of wine that night, but I still thought it was memorable."

"Oh," Clara said, grinning.  " _That_ night.  Believe me, I remember _that_ night."

"Good," the Doctor said.

She laughed.  "You didn't tell me we were banned from the planet."

"I thought it was obvious."

She kissed him again.  "Daft old man.  I like the date you've come up with, but how about a repeat of _that_ night?  It's not like they'll ban us from the TARDIS.  Though I'd hate to ruin your dinner plans."

He kissed her.  "Oh, my Clara.  Time machine.  You can do _both_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite the character tag, Clara's middle name is _not_ Oswin. Since she was named for Elisabeth _Clara_ Sladen, I decided having "Elisabeth" as her middle name would be appropriate.
> 
> As for Basil... Well, who knows how truthful the Doctor was being about his first name.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara knows that first dates can be tricky.  But when your date is a 2,000 year-old, socially awkward alien who thinks you know him well enough that dating is unnecessary, it's far worse than merely "tricky."

He was late.

This annoyed Clara Oswald to no end.  Okay, so maybe he had a point that a true "first" date wasn't strictly "necessary" given the state of their relationship; but, dammit, she needed simple, human things like dates.  Especially since she wasn’t exactly human anymore.

She looked at the menu for about the dozenth time, trying to ignore the piano music in the background and wondering if she should call him and yell at him.  Suddenly, there was a rustling sound next to her, and when she looked up he was sitting next to her in the booth.

"You're late," she said.

"I know," he said.

Her eyes narrowed.  "An apology would be nice."

"Sorry," he said flatly.

She somehow resists the urge to shout at him for being so insincere.

"And you're supposed to sit across from me," she said.

He grunted, and only after another glare did he move to sit across from her.

"Hello," he said, holding out his hand.  "I'm the Doctor, and it's so very nice to meet you."

"Oh, shut up," she snapped.  "I realize that you think this is pointless, but it's important to me, and if you actually care for me, you'll at least _try_ to humor me on this!"

"Sorry," he said, this time more sincerely.  Without another word, he picked up the menu and stared at it for a long moment.  When he looked up, Clara was still staring at him.

"So," he asked, "have you been here before?  Would you recommend anything?"

"It's entirely up to you," she said.  She picked up her menu.

"You're not actually reading that," he said.  "I can tell.  Your eyes aren't moving."

She set the menu onto the table.

"You know what?" she hissed.  "Just go."

"Clara..."

"Go," she said.  "I sure as hell am not going, since I'm the one who has to pay for this because UNIT evidently doesn't give you a fucking salary."

"Clara..."

" _Go_ ," she says again, loudly enough that the entire restaurant noticed.

He stood up, half-bowing once or twice in an attempt to appear contrite.  "I'm sorry," he said, before leaving.

She sighed, and looked at the menu again.  The maître d' approached.

"There won't be another scene, I promise," she said.

"Miss," the maître d' began.

"I'd like to see your wine list," Clara continued.  "Actually, I'd like to know if you have any spirits on hand.  Vodka, preferably?"

"Miss," the maître d’ said.  "You have a phone call."

"What?" she asked, deeply confused.  "Who's calling me?"

The maître d’ sighed.  "If you'd just come with me, please?"

She sighed, set the menu down, and followed the maître d’ back to the back of the restaurant, where another maître d’ handed her the phone.

"Who is this?" she asked.

"It's me," the Doctor said from the other end.

"I told you to go away," Clara said.  "Goodbye."

"Wait!  Waitwaitwaitwait!"

"Fine," Clara said.  "But this had better be good."

"I really am sorry," he said.  "I don't...  I really don't know how to behave in this sort of situation.  Time Lords, we're not supposed to do this."

"Go on dates?" Clara asked, confused.

"Fall in love," the Doctor said.

Clara wiped her sudden, silent tears with her free hand.  She asked, "How long has it been for you since I kicked you out?"

"A few hours," he said sheepishly.  "Backed up a bit."

"It took you a few hours to come up with an apology?" Clara asked, suppressing a laugh.

He sighed.  "If you're mad about that—."

"I'm not mad about that, Doctor Idiot," she said.  "I'm not really that mad about the date, even.  Okay, I'm a little mad about that, but you'd better make it up to me."

"I'll come back," he said.

"Don't," Clara said.  "I'm pretty sure we're about to be banned from this restaurant, anyway."

"Right," the Doctor said.  "So, do you want a 'human' date, then?  I can pop back even further, get us reservations at the best restaurants in London.  _Expensive_ restaurants."

Clara laughed.  "So I'll be paying, then?"

" _I'll_ pay," he said.

"You don't have any money."

"I can find some," he said smugly.  "Rob a bank on a distant planet."

She laughed again.  "Wait a minute.  Karabraxos.  Was that supposed to be a date?"

"Yes," he said.  “Yes it was.”

"Great.  A proper space date, that one."  She sighed.  "Get your arse over here.  Right now."

She hung up as the TARDIS materialized next to her.  She immediately opened the door.

"I'm not in the mood for fancy, anymore," she said.

"What are you in the mood for then?" he asked.

"Takeaway," she decided, walking over to him.

"Takeaway?"

She nodded.  "Yep.  In my flat, cuddled up next to you.  That okay?"

"Perfectly," he said, pulling her in for a kiss.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He enjoys watching her sleep.

He had been awake for two hours and twenty-four minutes.  Clara was still snuggled in his arms, as she had been when they'd both fallen asleep, three hours and nineteen minutes before.

He ran his thumb across her cheek, and she smiled softly in her sleep.  She tried to snuggle a little closer.  He touched the edge of her mind; she wasn't anywhere near REM sleep.  Probably not a good idea to speak to her telepathically, then.  He didn't mind.  He enjoyed watching her sleep, hearing her breathe, feeling the beat of her heart.

He estimated she would be asleep for another five hours.  He didn't mind staying next to her, awake, that entire time.  He'd had all the sleep he needed.

He wondered, idly, if Chinny would have had the patience to lie next to her for an entire night.  He'd loved her when he had the chin, but he also had no patience whatsoever.  The first time he ever met her, he stood watch while she was asleep.  He spent the whole time reorganizing the Maitlands' house and created a quadricycle.

He laughed at the idea of going back to ask the Eleventh about it.  Wondered what his past self would say when he learned he _finally_ got with Clara.

Knowing his life, he might get the chance to do it, one day.

Clara stirred briefly.

"Doctor?" she whispered.  "You okay?"

"Wonderful," he whispered back.

"So tired," she said.

He kissed her forehead.  "Go back to sleep, love."

"Don't leave me," she said, closing her eyes.

"Never," he promised.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nardole insisted that, if they took Bill on adventures, one of them had to stay behind to guard the vault. Clara does it through gritted teeth.

Clara knocked on the door to the vault.

“Missy, I brought burgers!”

Missy stopped playing _Für Elise_ and, inexplicably, began playing _God Save the Queen_.

Clara shook her head and opened the final lock.

“I’m not sure that sounds good on a piano,” Clara said, setting the takeout bags on top of it.  “And burgers are American.  Why are you playing the Queen?”

“I’m the Queen of Evil, dearie,” Missy said.  “And anyway, it’s _My Country, ’Tis of Thee_.  American, patriotic ripoff of _God Save the Queen_.”

Clara shrugged.  “If you say so.”

Missy closed the lid to the piano.  “So, create any adorable little hybrids?”

Clara sighed.  Missy asked this every time.  “No.”

“Shame,” Missy said as Clara set the containers down.  “I’ve been waiting a very long time for you two to get on with it.”

“Yes,” Clara said drily, “my entire relationship was a demented science experiment on your part to create a Time Baby who’d destroy the universe.”

“Well,” Missy said, opening her container, “I wanted to make him happy, too.”

“Sure you did,” Clara said, sitting in the other chair.

“I did!” Missy said.  “I’m a Time Lady; I saw the possibilities.  That you’d become like him.  His—I can’t believe I’m using this stupid human expression—his _soulmate_.”

“Then I guess I should say thank you,” Clara said.

“You really should, puppy,” Missy said.  She took a very large bite of her burger, and glared at Clara.

Clara rolled her eyes.  “ _Thank you_.”

“You’re quite welcome,” Missy said.

Clara sighed.  “I can’t believe I’m thanking you.”

Missy shrugged.  “You do owe me things.”

Clara folded her arms.  “I might be more willing if you stopped calling me ‘the puppy.’”

“It’d make a nice title for a Time Lady,” Missy said.  “So much better than ‘the Teacher.’”

“If you say so.”

“Really, I don’t know why you saddled yourself with that one.”

“I _am_ a teacher.”

“You should have gone with ‘the Professor,’” Missy said.  “It’d be so cute if you showed him up.  Are you going to eat that?”

Clara looked at her food.

“I’m not that hungry right now,” she said.

“Can I have it, then?”

“No.”

“You’re no fun,” Missy said, pouting.  Seeing it had no effect on Clara, she said, “I hear he’s traveling again.”

“He is.”

“And he left you here.”  Missy tsked.  “I don’t think that bodes well for your relationship.”

“Nardole insisted that one of us stay behind to watch over you,” Clara said.

“Nardole,” Missy said.  “The half-robot one?  He’s no fun.”

Clara laughed.  “I think I have to agree with you on that.”

“And I’ve no interest in leaving this vault,” Missy said.

“Oh, I’m sure,” Clara said.

“Sarcasm isn’t necessary, dear,” Missy said.  “I have a lot of time to think down here.”

Clara said nothing.

“You’re usually much more talkative,” Missy said.  “What happened?”

Clara sighed through her teeth.  “Bad day, that’s all.”

“Students, I suppose?” Missy asked.  “You should really kill one of them, make an example.”

“You’re doing _so well_ at turning good.”

“Thank you,” Missy said.

Clara rolled her eyes again.  Of course, she couldn’t tell Missy what really happened.

 

* * *

 

An hour later, Clara returned to the Doctor’s office.

“Hello, Clara,” the Doctor said, smiling behind his sonic sunglasses.

“You could tell it was me?” Clara asked.  “I thought you were blind.”

“I can always tell when it’s you,” he said, tapping the side of his glasses.  “Don’t even need these.  You’re so beautiful, I don’t even need to see.”

“You flatterer,” Clara said, standing behind him and kissing his hair.  She put her arms around him.  “I can’t believe you let this happen.”

“I couldn’t let Bill die,” he said.  “And if you had come along, I’d have to choose between the two of you.”

“That wouldn’t be good,” she said.

“No,” he said.  He sighed.  “How’s Missy?”

“The usual,” Clara said.  “Insufferable.”

“Definitely the usual,” the Doctor said.

“She extracted a thank you out of me.”

The Doctor looked back at her as best he could, puzzled.

“You know,” Clara said, “for putting us together.”

“Ah,” the Doctor said.  “That.”

“Yeah, that,” Clara said.

“I suppose she has a point,” he said.  “We really should be thankful.”

She kissed the Doctor’s hair again.  “I don’t want to be indebted to that psycho.”

“She’s still my friend,” he said.  “I don’t like it when you call her that.”

“I know,” she said.  “Still.  Besides, we almost didn’t get together anyway.”

“And whose fault was that?” the Doctor asked playfully.

“Yours,” Clara said.  “And mine.”

“And it’s our fault we _did_ get together, eventually,” he said.  “So maybe you don’t have to be thankful to her.”

“I guess,” she said.  She looked at his desk.  “Are you marking?  You never mark.”

“I was trying,” he said.  “It’s hard to do when you’re blind.”

“No kidding,” Clara said.

“I’m tired, Clara,” he said.

“Of?” she asked, worried he was in one of his dark moods.

“Just tired,” he said.  “I might sleep for a solid two hours.”

“Oh _dear_ ,” Clara said, smiling.

He sighed.  “Help me to bed, will you?  And don’t grin, I can tell you’re grinning.”

“I am,” she said.  “But it’s okay.  I’ll just lie next to you.  Deal?”

“Deal.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He loves her, and he doesn't care what Gallifrey would think.

She always wore him down eventually.  He didn't really mind that, but he hated that it fed Clara's egomania.  She was always so _smug_ when she managed to do it.

Then again, that smug smile of hers was adorable.

Everything about his Impossible Girl was adorable.  Her eyes and the little upturn of her nose.  Her kindness and her rage.  Everything.

He'd be the laughing stock of Gallifrey, of course.  The great Doctor Idiot, the Time Lord who shamed them by following his base emotions and urges.  Being in love with her.  Sleeping with her.  Things Time Lords were supposed to be “above” and “better than.”

Maybe rumors got back to Gallifrey, about them.  He didn't mind if they laughed at him.  They always had.  But he hoped he shamed them.  They disdained the sublime, they disdained _her_ , and they deserved to be shamed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief look at the Doctor and Clara's wedding day.

She said it out of the blue.  He was in her flat one night, sitting in a chair and trying to be still while she was marking.  She’d asked him to be still, and he found it was easier when he was looking at her.  Somewhat easier.

She picked up the pile of her students’ essays, dropped them on the floor, and said, “I want us to get married.”

He stared at her for a long moment.  “We are married,” he said at last.

“Space married,” she said.  “We’re _space_ married, Doctor.  I want us to get _proper_ married.”

He stared at her for another long moment.  She stared back, a hard stare that let him know she would absolutely not give up her ground.

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

* * *

 

The “proposal,” if you could even call it that, may have been anticlimactic, but the wedding was not.  For instance, the week before, Clara became insistent on slapping or punching anyone who called her a gold-digger or said he was too old for her.  Even if that person was her stepmother.

The Doctor, meanwhile, agonized over wedding vows.  She insisted on writing her own, and that obligated him to do the same.  He agonized over them for weeks, being so terrible at putting his emotions into words.  Really, she was the sole reason they were even a couple; he probably wouldn’t have admitted his feelings before the day she died.

He dithered on the vows, spending more time gathering their guests from across time and space.  At least their guests would know the truth of who he was, so maybe that was something.

But on the day itself, when he first saw Clara behind her mother’s veil, she had never looked more _Clara_ , and all his fears vanished.  When the time finally came to give their vows, she went first.

“My Doctor,” she said.  “I have loved you since the day I met you.  The day you showed up at my door.  You have shown me so many amazing things since then, but most of all you have shown me love.  Love I never thought I would have; love I never thought I would deserve.

“You have loved me at my best, and at my worst.  In my darkest moments.  When others would have hated me, you have loved me.  Unconditionally.  And I love you, my Doctor.

“You once told me that love was a promise.  Then my promise to you is to love you, unconditionally.  To love you at your best and at your worst.  To love you until the end of my days.  To love you until the end of time and back.”

The celebrant turned to the Doctor.

“My Clara,” he said.  “You have saved me a million times.  You have been woven into the very fabric of my life, from beginning and, I promise you, to end.  You have been there at the darkest moments of my lives: when I had no hope, when there was no witness, when I expected no reward.

“You have given me love I never deserved; love I never thought I would receive.  You are the light in my darkness.  You are the center of my universe.  You are my life itself.”

He brushed a tear from her cheek, and continued, “Clara, I promise to you that I will love you, and cherish you, for all of eternity.  I promise that I will forever be at your side.  I promise I will love you to the last beats of my hearts, and beyond.”

And soon, they sealed their promises with a kiss.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara notices her first gray hair. The Doctor is surprisingly comforting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This offers _an_ explanation for Clara's augmented lifespan. It's the one I think I like the most.

Clara was brushing her hair when she first noticed it.  A single hair caught her eye.  She almost didn’t see it, and it took her a moment to fish it out again.  She held it delicately between her fingers and sighed.

Her first gray hair.

With a deep sigh, she yanked it out by the root, muttering a brief “Ow!” as she did so.  She held the now-detached hair up to the light, just to confirm her suspicion.

“Definitely gray,” she muttered.

Just then, the Doctor burst through the bathroom door.

“Jesus!” she shouted, jumping and dropping the offending hair to the floor.  “Doctor!”

“Sorry,” he said.  “But I heard you cry out in pain.  Forgive me for being concerned.”

“Shush,” she said.  “I was pulling a hair out.”

“Why would you do that?” the Doctor asked.

“It was gray.”

She was expecting she would have to spend the next ten minutes explaining why it upset her.  She emphatically did _not_ expect him to wrap his arms around her as he was now, and utter a soft, “Oh, Clara.”

“Doctor?” she asked.  “What are you doing?”

“Consoling you,” he said.  “Really, Clara, that should be obvious.”

“I...  I’m surprised you picked up that I’m upset.”

He laughed.  “I’m learning.  It’s only taken me a hundred years.”

“More than that,” she said, leaning into him.  “But do you know _why_ I’m upset?”

“You’re upset about getting older,” he said.

He had surprised her again.  “That’s exactly what I’m upset about.  Since when do you notice things like that?”

He shrugged as best he could while still holding her.  “You have a way of teaching me.  Teacher.”

“Doctor,” she said, turning around to face him.  “I’m still a little shocked.”

“Well, even Time Lords aren’t immune,” he said.  “Most of us would be upset at going gray before 200.”

“Says the Time Lord who _regenerated_ gray.”

“Ah, you like gray,” he said.

“I do,” she said, running her fingers through his hair.  “At least with you.”

“I’ll love it with you,” he said.

She kissed him then, briefly.

“Did you go gray before 200?” she asked.  “I mean, in your first regeneration?”

He thought about it for a moment.  “I think by 150, in Earth years.  The first me aged quite rapidly.”

“What was it like, regenerating for the first time?” she asked.  “It seems a little...  morbid, for me to ask that...”

“You probably won’t have to worry about that for another few centuries,” he said.  “And you might not even change appearance, other than to get younger.  I don’t know if you were modified enough for—.”

“Answer the question, space man,” she said, placing a finger on his lips.

He sighed.  “One to Two?  Peaceful.  Invigorating.  I had been wearing a bit thin, was starting to expect it.  You don’t need to fear it, Clara.”

“I know,” she said.  “I kinda do, anyway.”

He hugged her again.  “I’m sorry, Clara.”

“For what?” she asked.  “My Time Lady-ness?  Because of that, Doctor, I get to spend _centuries_ with you.  There hasn’t been a _second_ since that happened that I haven’t been grateful.  Not one.”

She got up on her tiptoes and kissed him.  “You are the center of my universe,” she said, repeating a line of his wedding vows.

“Oh, my Clara,” he said.  “You are my life itself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always appreciated. Let me know what you think!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regeneration can be a tricky thing. Especially when one of you has never done it before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know. I just wanted to get this one out before we find out what Thirteen *really* will look like. Think of this as one possible future.

Clara still didn’t recognize the face in the mirror as her own.  Her body image was still that of a short brunette, not a tall, leggy blonde.

She sighed and adjusted her dress for about the tenth time.  She knew she was being unreasonable, but she couldn’t help it.  She still thought of herself as human; still had a human mind.  She wasn’t a Time Lady in her head.  She knew she’d never get used to regeneration.

The Doctor knocked on the door.  “Clara, we’re going to be late for cocktails!”

She sighed, adjusted her dress one last time, and opened the door.

The Doctor frowned when he saw her.

“What’s wrong?” Clara asked.

The Doctor’s new, wide, ginger face got, if anything, wider.

“Well,” he said.  “You did that thing again.  Where you try to look _up_ at me before you remember to look _down_.”

Clara sighed.  She was now four inches taller than the Doctor, after their mutual regenerations, and she had a hard time remembering that.

“I’m still not used to being _tall_ ,” Clara said.

“We regenerated six years ago!” the Doctor said.

“Still not used to it,” Clara said, closing the door to her dressing room and taking the Doctor’s arm.

“I’ve gotten used to you having a height advantage,” he said as they walked towards the console room.  “I thought you’d enjoy it by now.”

She chuckled.  “I guess I do, sometimes.”

“Damn right, you do,” he said.

“Not used to the new accent, either,” she said.

“I thought you liked Scottish accents,” the Doctor said.

“Yeah, when it was _you_.”

The Doctor stopped walking and turned to face her.  “What’s that supposed to mean?  I can’t be Blackpudlian, is that it?”

“Dear god, this new you is so insecure,” Clara said.  “I’m not _complaining_ about yours.  I’m used to you changing accents.  And faces.”

She put her hands on his shoulders, and bent her knees just so, so she could look him in the eyes.

“God, I love you, okay?” she said.  “Every you.  Every face you’ve ever had, and ever will.  I see you, okay?”

“Perfectly clear, love,” the Doctor said.

“I’m just not—I mean, I still think of myself as Clara.  Short, adorable little Clara.  Not tall, supermodel Clara!”

“You’re both beautiful,” the Doctor said, smiling.

“I know,” Clara said, taking his arm again.  “I just need more time to get used to this, I guess.”

“More than six years?” the Doctor asked.  “Sorry.”

“Do you feel like a different person when you regenerate?” Clara asked.  “Because I still feel like the same person.”

“Depends,” the Doctor said.  “Sometimes, I feel like they’re ghosts lurking in my head.  Tenth me really was insecure about it, but I usually feel the same continuity of person I imagine humans do.”

“Okay, then,” Clara said.  “So, cocktails?”

“Hopefully just that,” the Doctor said, gesturing for her to go first through the TARDIS doors.

“Ach, come on, Doc.  You wouldn’t have picked a 1920s American speakeasy for our date night if you didn’t want a ruckus.”

“Fair point,” the Doctor said, opening the doors himself.  “And don’t call me Doc!”

Clara grinned.  “Whatever you say, Doc.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why do the Doctor and Clara keep getting banned from places? _Well..._
> 
> Suggestive, but not really NSFW.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one takes place before Chapter 10. So do the rest I'll be putting up. Probably.

The woman calling herself Mayor Me these days put her face in both hands and rested her elbows on her desk.  She let out a very long sigh and then looked up at the very disheveled couple sitting across from her.

“I seriously don’t know what I’m going to do with the two of you,” she said.

The Doctor fidgeted in his seat.  Clara Oswald, in Me’s mind the picture of unkempt beauty in her disheveled state, leaned forward.

“You could just let us go,” she said.  “Let bygones be bygones.”

Mayor Me narrowed her eyes.  “Don’t try to flirt with me.”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” Clara said, leaning back in her chair, her blushing betraying her lie.

Me shook her head.  “I don’t know what’s worse: what you were doing, or that I had to explain to fourteen members of three asexual species just what it _was_ that you were doing!  What do you have to say for yourselves?”

“The door was supposed to be locked,” the Doctor said.

“We’re newlyweds,” Clara said, pushing her hair behind her ear.  “Aren’t we, Doctor?”

“We’re not newly,” he began, before wilting under his wife’s glare.  “Yes.  Yes, Ashildr, we’re newlyweds.  Very new.  Very, very new.”

“I don’t buy it,” Me said.  “How long have you been married?”

The Doctor sighed and stared at the floor.  “It’s nice flooring you have in here.  Seventeenth century domestic hardwood.  Very nice.”

Me just turned to Clara.

Clara’s resolve crumbled immediately.  “About a hundred and ten years.  Give or take.”

“A hundred and...”  Me again buried her face in her hands.  “And _why_ , pray tell, are you acting like horny teenagers?”

“She has that effect on me,” the Doctor said.

“Yeah, like it’s _entirely_ my fault,” Clara said, casting a glance at the Doctor.

He just winked at her.

Me groaned.  “ _Please_ don’t start shagging in my office.”  They both were surprised.  “Don’t think I can’t tell that’s what you’re thinking.  I’ve had twelve hundred years of watching horny teenagers.”

She shook her head.  “Jesus Christ and Odin’s beard.  So again, _what_ am I doing with you two?”

“That depends,” Clara said.  “What are the rules here, again?”

“Well,” Me said, smiling sweetly.  “You’re lucky I didn’t buy that Quantum Shade back in 1889.”

“Quantum Shade?” Clara asked.

Me pointed a thumb at the Doctor.  “Let’s just say that if he hadn’t ‘upgraded’ my memory, I shudder to think how ruthless I would have become.”

Clara turned to the Doctor, who was glaring at Me.  It gave Clara the chills.

“You almost bought a Quantum Shade,” he said.

“I gave it only minor consideration,” Me said.

“That is _the_ most cruel and cowardly way of killing someone.”

“Yes, I actually imagined you saying that to me at the time.”

“Wait,” Clara said.  “You’re going to _kill_ us?!”

Me shook her head.  “I show mercy, when I can.  I do have to be cruel, to keep order amongst species that would otherwise be at each other’s throats, but nothing so cruel for what you did.  I’m afraid I just have to ban you from ever returning to Trap Street.”

“Ach, come on!” the Doctor said.  “I was starting to like this place!  I have coffee with Ood Delta every week!”

Me just stared at him.

“Just a month?” he asked meekly.

Me sighed.  “Five years.  And that’s five years on _my_ end.  I don’t want you traveling about the galaxy for five years then returning tomorrow.”

“One year,” Clara said.  “And we help you find Sam.”

“I doubt he remembers who I am,” Me said.  “And he took to calling himself ‘Thee.’  But I have missed him, to some extent.  So very well.  Now, get out of my office!”

The Doctor and Clara didn’t need to be told twice.

As they walked out of the building, Clara reached for his hand.

“At least,” he said, “we don’t have to add this place to the list of places we’ve been permanently banned from.”

“There’s a list?” Clara asked.

The Doctor pulled a notebook from one of his many pockets.  “The Rose and Crown, Cambridge during all of Newton’s tenure, Alfava Metraxis, the second-most romantic planet in all of time and space, the _third_ -most romantic planet, the restaurant where we had our first date—.”

“That was for causing a scene,” Clara objected.  “We didn’t have sex there.”

“Still,” he said.  “And we haven’t had sex in all the places we’ve been banned from, Clara.  Like BBC Headquarters, BBC Wales Headquarters, BBC _America_ Headquarters, all of Uzbekistan, Pyongyang—.”

“We were _supposed_ to be in 19th Century Seoul, if you haven’t forgotten.”

“Then there’s New Iceland, New New New York, Anorax Prime, Anorax Beta, the third moon of—”

“I get the point, thanks,” she said.  She smiled at him.  “We’re ridiculously inappropriate as a couple.”

“Very much,” he said, smiling back.  “And no, it’s not all your fault.”

“Good to know,” she said, turning around and grabbing him by both hands.  “Otherwise, you’d blame me for what we’re about to do.”

“Clara!”

“A hundred ten years,” she said, winking at him.  “Like I can’t see what’s going on in your head right now.  Like you aren’t putting those pictures in _my_ head.”

“Not on purpose...”

“Come on, Doctor,” she said.  “We’re already banned, anyway.  And we never finished.”

He sighed.  “Yes, boss.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I’ve said, this diverges from canon at an unspecified “somewhere.” For this little piece, I’m assuming somewhere just before “The Girl Who Died,” which is why Mayor Me is nicer here.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor doesn't want to regenerate. Clara quickly figures out why.

The Doctor woke in the TARDIS.  The last thing he remembered was the explosion on the Mondasian colony ship.  But for a second, he could hear Bill’s voice in his ear.

“ _Where there’s tears, there’s hope.”_  He had said that to her.  Did she really say that to him?

He turned. Clara was waking up next to him.

“Doctor?” she asked, sitting up.  She reached over and hugged him.  “Are you okay?”

Before he could answer, before he could truly get his bearings, golden regeneration energy began pouring from his hands.

“No!” the Doctor growled. “No no no no no!”

He stood up and walked about the console.  Clara got up immediately and followed him.

“It’s okay, Doctor,” she said.  “You’re alive; you’re with me, that’s what counts.”

“When the Doctor,” he whispered, his eyes far away.  “When the Doctor was me. When the Doctor was me. No!”

And with a great shout, he slammed his fists down on the console and the regeneration energy dissipated.

“What are you doing?!” Clara shouted, grabbing him by the lapels.  “Doctor, you need to regenerate!”

“No,” he said.  “I’m tired of changing. I don’t want to change again.”

“You have to,” she said.  “Your body wouldn’t be doing this if you didn’t have to change.”

He avoided her eyes, staring at the console.

“Hey,” she said.  “I know it’s hard to rebuild everything, to become a new man, but I’ll be right there with you.”

“Will you?” he asked.

She frowned. “What?”

“Clara,” he said, as the energy began to pulse again.  “You didn’t see me. Last time you didn’t see me.”

Tears welled in her eyes.  “You big idiot.  You daft old man.  I was scared.  You went from a young man to an old one and back again, in a _single day_.”

“It was hundreds of years.”

“To you,” she said.  She held his hands and gazed into his eyes.  She had to admit, she’d miss those big, blue eyes.  “I was worried something went wrong.  But do you really think I’m so superficial that I won’t love you when you change?  I don’t care what face you have!  I will always see you, Doctor, and I will always, always love you.”

“My Clara,” he said, crying.  “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“You deserve me because you _are_ a good man,” she said.  She kissed him.  “I know you’re afraid.  But you don’t have to be.  Whatever happens, whoever you are next, you’ll still be the same, _good_ man.  And I’ll be there with you.”

He smiled.

“Clara,” he said, before stepping back and letting the regeneration wash over him.

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, she feared his coming regeneration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is angsty. I am so, so sorry. But, you know, angst on Thirteen before the announcement. And as Chapter 13, too!
> 
> Also not beta'd, cuz I'm lazy.

Sometimes, she feared his coming regeneration.

That was selfish on her part, she knew. He was always the same man. She had learned that firsthand, when Bow-Tie became Punk-Rocker. He was gloriously the same man, and when she thought of her reaction to his regeneration the last time she felt like a total bitch. He'd forgiven her for that long, long ago, but it still hurt her to think of it.

And yet, she still feared Thirteen.

She remembered the day he confessed to her that he never went back for River. They had shouted at each other, and she'd hated his cold-heartedness, how stupid he was for almost dying on Trenzalore without providing River the means for surviving their first meeting. She was far more upset about that than learning he was still married to someone else.

Hell, River's data ghost certainly knew they were both, for lack of a better term, sister wives, long before Clara had even realized the depths of her feelings for the Doctor. And she'd certainly loved River as much as he had when they met her on Darillium. Twenty-four years of three-person marriage was a lot more fun—and fulfilling—than she had expected.

But late at nights, when she woke up to find him gone, she worried about Thirteen. River was Eleven's wife, and Twelve had almost left her. And he'd told Clara things about how brain chemistry changed during regenerations that had not in the least reassured her.

She was Twelve's wife. She was certain, absolutely certain, that she would love Thirteen. But would Thirteen love her?


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara gets some surprising news via the TARDIS. News she's not sure she's ready for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is before Chapter 12. And 10. Actually, let's forget the idea that these are in chronological order! Or even necessarily the same universe...?
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

“Dear god, this can’t be happening!”

Clara was alone in the console room, gripping the monitor as if her life depended on it.  Perhaps it did, she supposed.  But even after lots of pregnancy tests—probably eight, she wasn’t sure—she couldn’t accept the positive results.  Hence, asking the TARDIS.

“Come on,” she whispered, “I can’t be pregnant!  Future birth control; absolutely, a hundred percent effective!”

The TARDIS beeped, and the screen displayed, PREGNANT.

Clara groaned loudly and rested her head on the console.  “I’m not ready for this.  Hell, _he’s_ not ready for this!”

“Ready for what?” the Doctor asked from behind her, and Clara immediately jumped and spun the monitor around so the Doctor couldn’t see it.

“Nothing!” Clara said.  “Nothing at all!  Why are you out of the workshop?”

The Doctor looked at her, and Clara’s resolve crumbled immediately.

“I’m sorry,” Clara said.  “I just got some... surprising news, and I’m not really ready for it.”

The Doctor slowly nodded.

Clara sighed and grabbed the monitor, slowly bringing it around to show him.  He was silent for a maddeningly long moment.

“You’re pregnant,” he said at last.

Clara rolled her eyes.  “Thank you for stating the obvious.”

The Doctor broke into a big grin and grabbed Clara into a hug.  She shrieked as he picked her up off the floor and spun her around.

“You’re happy about this?” Clara asked when he finally let her down.

“This is the best news you could have given me!” he said, pulling her into a kiss.

“I know we’ve talked about it,” Clara said.  “But I’m just shocked, and surprised, and I’m really, really worried that I’m not ready for this.  And I was certain you weren’t!  And what you said about the Hybrid...”

He held her as she broke into tears.

“My Clara,” he said.  “Don’t you worry.  You _are_ ready for this.  I know I am.  And don’t worry about the Hybrid.  We’ll handle this the same way we handle everything.”

“Together,” she whispered.

“Together.”

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara and the Doctor had shared a bed for three months and hadn’t made love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is back when it all started, obviously.

Clara and the Doctor had shared a bed for three months and hadn’t made love. Clara was surprised that she didn’t mind this. Then again, why would she? They made love every time they held hands. Cuddling next to him, waking up in his arms, was the best feeling in the universe. They were already intimate, extremely intimate: the bond between them so raw and powerful it was ecstasy just to think of each other.

A part of her definitely wanted to have sex with him. He was exceptionally handsome, beautiful in a way he clearly didn’t comprehend. But it never came up. Maybe Time Lords didn’t have sex at all, she decided. It didn’t matter; their relationship had never been defined by such things.

 

* * *

 

They stumbled back into the TARDIS, having repelled a Silosian battle fleet from the planet Theta Shravishtha IX. The Doctor grabbed Clara and kissed her against the closed doors of the TARDIS.

“You were amazing out there,” he said.

“So were you,” she said.

He took a step back, staring at the floor. He looked like an awkward schoolboy in front of his crush. It was adorable.

“Something on your mind?” she asked.

“Clara, I would like,” he began. He sighed and paced the console.

“Are you alright?” Clara asked, more amused than concerned.

He sat in one of the pilot’s chairs and rubbed his face with both hands. “I’m feeling something that’s very awkward to put into words.”

“Are you?” Clara asked, kneeling next to him. “Just say it. I don’t care how it sounds.”

He sighed and reached for her hand. He stroked it gently for a moment, not meeting her eyes.

“Clara,” he said, “I would very much... I would very much like to make love to you.”

He barely glanced up at her.

Clara smiled. “I’d like that, too,” she said.

Now the Doctor looked at her, puzzled.

“What is it?” Clara asked.

“I... I thought you didn’t want to.” He shied away from Clara’s confused stare. “Clara, we’ve been together, we’ve been _in bed_ together, for months, and you never mentioned it.”

She stroked his face.

“Daft old man,” she said. “I was waiting for _you_ to say something.”

He laughed. “Oh, Clara. It’s always like this with us, isn’t it? Waiting for each other.”

“I guess it is,” she said, stroking his face. “But making love for us isn’t about a bed, is it?”

“No,” he said. “I don’t suppose it is.”

She leaned forward and kissed him.

“Still,” she said. “If you want to. We definitely can go to bed, in that way.”

“I want to,” he said. “I have for a very, very long time.”

Clara stood up. “You adorable, awkward old man. Bed?”

“Bed,” he said, standing up and taking her by the hand.

“So, how will this go?” Clara asked as they walked through the corridor.

The Doctor blushed. “I’m not used to putting it into words.”

He looked at her, and sent her a telepathic image.

Clara’s eyes bulged. “You _dirty_ old man.” Then she smiled, getting on her tiptoes and kissing him. “I want that, too.”

 

* * *

 

Their first time was awkward and beautiful, filled with soft kisses and a thousand whispered I-love-yous. And it was everything either of them had ever wanted.

From that point on, they had sex often. But they still made love every time they held hands.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara and the Doctor discuss baby names.

“What’s this?” Clara asked, picking up a piece of paper on the kitchen table.

The Doctor barely glanced at his now heavily-pregnant wife.  “Names.  For the baby.”

“Don’t I get a say?”

“I imagined you would bring it up eventually,” he said, putting dishes away.

Clara picked a pen from off the table and began crossing off names.

“No, no, no.  Dear _God_ , no.”

“Come on!” the Doctor said.  “Don’t you like any of them?”

“Don’t think so,” Clara said, tapping the pen against the table.  “I mean, Agatha if it’s a girl?”

“Agatha’s a great name!”

“It really isn’t,” Clara said, shaking her head.  She scratched another name off the list.  “And I like Osgood as much as you do, but we are not naming any daughter of ours Petronella.”

“Control freak,” the Doctor muttered.

“What was that?” Clara asked, glaring at him.

“Nothing,” the Doctor said.

“And boys,” Clara said.  “I mean, Irving?”

“That was my brother’s name,” the Doctor said quietly.

“Oh,” Clara said, staring at the table.  She was silent for a long moment.  “I forgot.  I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said, walking over to her and putting his arms around her shoulders.  “I always called him Brax.  And it was an odd name even for a Time Lord.  American.  My mother was partial to the place.”

“Fine, I guess we can consider it, _Basil_ ,” Clara said, laughing a little.  “But I don’t like these other ones.  I mean, Boniface?  Was that your uncle or something?”

“Pope Boniface XII,” the Doctor said.  “He’s going to be a great one, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” Clara said.  “Still.  And you have both Daniel and Rose on here.  No naming our child after our exes.”

“I was running out of ideas.”

“And definitely not Neville,” Clara said.

“I thought you’d like that one!” the Doctor said.  “It’s literary!”

“It is?”

“ _Harry Potter_ ,” he said.

Clara laughed.  “If we’re going to cite Harry Potter, we’d name a boy Harry, not _Neville_.”

“Neville Longbottom was the real protagonist,” the Doctor said.  “The prophecies all clearly referred to him, and he had greater character development.”

Clara sighed and sat at the table.  She did not want to argue about _Harry Potter_.

“If we’re going to be literary,” she said, “I want to put Jane on the list.”

“No exes,” the Doctor said.

“Jane Austen is not an ex,” Clara said.

“Yes, you keep telling yourself that.”

Clara laughed again.  “Fine, how about Emma?”

“You can put it on your list,” the Doctor said.  “Do you even have a list?”

“Not written down,” Clara said.  “We don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl yet.  I mean, you’re telepathic and even you can’t tell.”

The Doctor just shrugged.

“It’s weird.  You’re a great telepath with me,” Clara said.

“That’s different,” he said.  “But the changes your body’s going through, you should be able to hear them.”

“I think I do,” Clara said.  “They’re not fully formed thoughts, though.  And I can’t tell if it’s a boy or a girl.”

“Right,” the Doctor said.

She looked up at him, smiling.  “But I’m pretty sure they think your list is rubbish.”

“Whatever you say, boss,” he said, planting a kiss on her lips.

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the incident on the Mondasian ship, Clara reacts to the new Doctor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This immediately follows [Chapter 12](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11040609/chapters/25603296). Yes, it's Chapter 17. Wibbly wobbly timey wimey.

The Doctor had been unconscious for some hours. It had taken a long time for Clara to get him—her—to the Zero Room. Why the TARDIS hadn’t put the Zero Room near the console room was beyond her.

The Doctor’s new body levitated in mid air. Clara stood in the corner, annoyed at the white, too bright walls. _It’d be a horrible place to recover from a hangover_ , she thought.

She gazed at the new person before her. Blonde hair, shorter, a strong jaw. A woman. But Clara could still feel the Doctor’s presence in her mind. The same psychic connection they had shared for decades. That was comforting; she was still the same person underneath. Same enough that their minds were still linked.

She certainly didn’t mind the change. She gently stroked the new Doctor’s cheek. The Doctor sighed in her sleep. A gentle moan that was familiar to Clara, if at a different pitch. Still the same person.

Clara already loved her.

It was still surprising to Clara, in a way, that she’d already accepted the change so readily, so quickly. When it had taken her a while to get used to it the last time.

Well, she was nearly two hundred now. And pretty much a Time Lady herself.

While she waited for the Doctor to recover, Clara scanned herself. She had regenerated, but still had the same face. “Rejuvenation,” the Doctor had once called it. She certainly felt rejuvenated. Lines were gone from her face, her hands looked younger, and she was pretty sure her gray hairs were gone, too.

She wasn’t going through regeneration trauma, though. Maybe that was because it wasn’t really a regeneration? She certainly wasn’t babbling about Sontarans, like the Doctor had.

The Doctor stirred.

Clara immediately went to her side.

“Hey,” Clara said, gently stroking her face again. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” the Doctor said. She sighed. “I didn’t want to change.”

“It’s okay,” Clara said. She smiled. “You’re still beautiful.”

The Doctor laughed. “Voice is off. I can’t tell what’s wrong with it.”

“Uh-huh,” Clara said, stifling a laugh.

The Doctor smiled. “Thanks for being with me.”

“Always and forever,” Clara said.

The Doctor frowned. “Are you younger? You’ve got more hair, I think.”

Clara touched her hair. Her now-wife was right; her hair now went down past her shoulders.

“I guess I do,” Clara said. “I regenerated, too.”

“I probably don’t have the same face, though,” the Doctor said. She reached for Clara. “The same beautiful, round face.”

“Short and round,” Clara said, laughing, and the Doctor laughed too. It was once a jealous insult; now it was an old joke.

“What do I look like?” the Doctor asked.

Clara smiled, leaning down and kissing the Doctor briefly, passionately. With her lips still pressed to hers, she said, “Like the woman I love.”

“ _Woman?!_ ” the Doctor shouted. She leapt to her feet. “I’m a _girl?!_ ”

Clara laughed. “Yeah, you are,” she said, eyeing the Doctor. “A very hot one.”

The Doctor briefly walked about the room. “Koschei, you little—. How am I supposed to deal with this?”

Clara walked over to the Doctor and pulled her into a kiss; it was much easier, the Doctor now being shorter.

“I’ll help you every step of the way,” she said.

“You mean it?” the Doctor asked. “You’re not, you know, upset?”

“Upset?” Clara asked. “I’m fine with girls. Jane Austen, remember?”

The Doctor grunted.

“Hey,” Clara said, putting her arms around the Doctor’s shoulders. “I said always and forever, daft old man. I mean it.”

The Doctor kissed her. “I mean it, too. But are you still going to call me that?”

“‘Daft old man’?” Clara asked, grinning. “I might.”

“Control freak,” the Doctor said, kissing her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome aboard, Jodie!


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara and the Doctor speak to their daughter for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Clara and Twelve's baby saga again. I'm basically spinning that story off into a separate series after this; stay tuned!

Clara woke in the middle of the night to the sound of the Doctor crying.

This was, sadly, not unusual. He had nightmares, every now and then, about the horrors he’d seen, in the Time War and everywhere else. He always denied it; he denied ever even sleeping. In over a hundred years of marriage, Clara had gotten good at calming him down and comforting him.

“Shh,” Clara said, gently stroking his chest. She sat up against the headboard, pulling him into her lap. It was a bit difficult to do at her state of pregnancy. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

“It’s not a nightmare,” he said.

“I know,” Clara said, not hiding her annoyance at his denials. “I know, you don’t sleep.”

“No,” he said. “I really wasn’t asleep this time.”

Clara didn’t know what to make of this. “So… you’re admitting that you do sleep?”

She looked down at him, and to her surprise he was smiling at her.

“Thank you,” he said.

“For?”

He laughed. “Clara, I… I never thought I’d be able to start over. I never thought I’d have a child again.”

Clara, unsure of what to say, simply nodded.

“Clara,” he said, “you’ve given me a second chance. You’ve given me so many second chances, and I can never thank you enough for that.”

“I’m happy to do it,” she said.

“I’ve never told you, how much it means to me,” he said. “To have a child with you.”

“My Doctor,” she said, stroking his hair. “It means everything to me, too.”

“I love you so much, Clara.”

“I love you,” she said.

He opened his mind to her then, and as always the sheer wave of adoration he held for her took her breath away. The depth of what he meant, beyond words, impressed upon her mind.

She let him know what she felt in return, the depths of a love that led her to shatter herself into a million pieces for his sake.

Then, as they were basking in the full glory of their feelings for one another, a third presence made itself known. An inarticulate but powerful mind impressing its love for them.

 _That’s our child, Clara!_ the Doctor thought at Clara.

 _Our daughter_ , Clara thought back. _Hello, little one!_

There was a wash of feelings, a half-formed image, that worked out to, _Hello, Mummy_.

“Our daughter,” Clara said aloud. “We have a daughter.”

She wiped tears from her eyes. “I knew it, I don’t know why I’m crying.”

The Doctor stifled a smart remark about how Clara being right about their child’s gender must be feeding her egomania. It seemed inappropriate. But he couldn’t hide it while they were telepathically linked, and Clara laughed.

“Our beautiful daughter,” she said, patting her stomach. “Do you know what your name is?”

A wave of confusion.

“You’re our Emma,” the Doctor said. “Our little Emma.”

“Emma Jane Oswald,” Clara said. She shot a look at the Doctor. “The middle name’s final.”

A wave of happiness from their child.

“This is amazing,” Clara said.

“I know,” the Doctor said, sliding up the headboard and kissing his wife’s cheek.

“Is it always like this?” Clara asked. “For Gallifreyans?”

The Doctor shook his head. “She’s got quite the brain, this one. She’s going to be brilliant.”

Their unborn daughter seemed very satisfied to hear this.

“She’s got your smugness,” Clara said.

“I’m not smug, you’re smug!” the Doctor said.

Clara smiled. “I know.” She reached back and kissed him. “Does this mean she’s ready to come out?”

“Soon,” the Doctor said. “Another three weeks should do it.”

“She’s taking her sweet time,” Clara said. “That’s really not like either of us.”

They sat in silence, listening to their daughter’s growing voice.

“I think she’s asleep,” Clara said some time later.

“We should probably do the same,” the Doctor said.

“I don’t know what’s more momentous,” Clara said. “That we’ve spoken to our daughter, or that you’ve finally admitted that you do sleep.”

A pause. “Shut up.”

Clara laughed. “Make me.”

And he made her with a kiss.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara dresses Thirteen—or tries to.

“Why are we doing this again?”

Clara glanced around a corner in the TARDIS wardrobe to look at her wife.

“Because you can’t go around in your old clothes,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I love the velvety coat, but seriously you were swimming in it.”

“That’s not what I mean,” the Doctor said, taking off the red floppy hat Clara had handed her and looking it over in her hands. She tugged at the short velvet jacket she was wearing, over a giant yellowish button-down shirt that went down to her knees and blue tights. “You seem to be doing your best to fix the velvety stuff, thanks. No, what I meant was _this_.”

She lifted a foot and pointed at her high-heeled shoes.

“These shoes are ridiculous,” the Doctor said, setting her foot back down.

“You never say that when I wear them,” Clara said, walking around the corner and leaning on a pillar, holding a long, colored scarf.

“Well, _you_ can walk in them,” the Doctor said. “I’m _afraid_ to walk in these.”

“Are you?” Clara said, rolling her eyes.

“I am!” the Doctor said, waving her hat about. “They feel like they’re going to break as soon as I put any real pressure on them, _and_ they hurt like hell. _Why_ do you keep giving me stupid shoes like these?”

“You look good in them!” Clara said.

“Well, I don’t _feel_ good,” the Doctor said. She tried bending over to remove them, but stumbled, reaching for Clara in a panic and pulling them both to the floor.

“God, are you alright?” she asked at once, not the least bit concerned that Clara had fallen on top of her.

“I’m fine,” Clara said. There eyes met, and lingered. “I haven’t really appreciated your new eye color.”

“Uh-huh,” the Doctor said. “You mind getting off, though?”

Clara grinned. “That depends.”

The Doctor rolled her eyes. “I bet it does. Let me guess, on whether I allow shagging in the wardrobe?”

Clara laughed. “You already do. Remember, when we were getting ready for the masked ball on Venflaxia?”

“That was the last me.”

Clara brushed her lips against hers. “Still you. But I was thinking about something else.”

“Oh?”

Clara bit her lip. “I’ll get off of you if you wear the heels.”

The Doctor considered this for a moment.

“No deal,” she said, pulling Clara into a kiss and rolling over on top of her, tickling her.

Clara whacked her with the hat, laughing as they tumbled about in each other’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The outfit Thirteen is wearing in the beginning is [this](https://68.media.tumblr.com/d7d35b5d3e44f20e0d59e0039c2352c4/tumblr_otrmj81u3U1rkjeqmo2_540.jpg). The whole set, drawn by Shani, can be found on Tumblr [here](https://professorsaber.tumblr.com/post/164959954703/shaniartist-13th-doctor-possible-outfits).


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara realizes she'll need to tell Missy that she's pregnant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this has been sitting on my drive for a month and a half. I don't know how happy I am with it, but there it is.

“You realize we’ll have to tell Missy, right?”

The Doctor grunted at his pregnant wife.  Clara asked this in the dark, in the middle of the night.  He had been sleeping.

“I mean, it’s like the only question she ever asks me,” Clara said.  “‘You create any hybrids yet?’  What am I supposed to say now that we have?”

“I don’t know,” the Doctor said.  He groaned.  “Maybe we just shouldn’t mention it.”

“Yeah, that’s a great plan,” Clara said.  “‘Puppy, you’re getting so fat in the belly, why if I wasn’t an evil genius I’d think you were pregnant!’”

The Doctor grunted again.

Clara turned, leaning on her elbow and looking at him.

“I know you need your sleep—.”

“I don’t sleep.”

“Shut up,” she said, grinning in spite of herself.  “Just, just help me figure it out in the morning, okay?”

“Okay,” he said.  “After _you_ sleep.”

“Right,” Clara said.  “Like after 110 years of marriage I’ve never noticed that you _do_ sleep.”

She kissed him on the nose and left their bedroom for the TARDIS kitchen.  She wasn’t showing, not yet, but apparently the strange cravings were already there.

When she got back to their bedroom, he was fast asleep.

 

* * *

 

“You should just tell her,” the Doctor said in the morning.

“Me?” Clara asked. “I’d rather we do it together, thanks. I’d rather the baby leave the vault alive.”

“Don’t say that!” the Doctor said, his anger flaring.

“Why not?” Clara said, laughing coldly. “I’m sure she’s killed children before. And pregnant woman.”

“She’s trying to be better,” the Doctor said.

Clara set her coffee mug on the table. “You know, you keep saying that so much, I’m worried you’re starting to believe it.”

“I don’t believe it,” he said.

“I’m not so sure about that,” she said. “You want to believe it, I know that.”

“We were friends once,” he said.

“And she’s the only one who can understand you, yeah?” Clara said, bitter.

“What’s bringing this on?” the Doctor asked.

Clara sighed. “I don’t know. But I worry. I know what you’re thinking. You want to give her a chance.”

“I do,” he said. Clara glared at him, but he continued, “I was thinking an escorted mission somewhere, a test run.”

“Absolutely not,” Clara said.

“You’re not in charge,” he said.

“Aren’t I?” Clara said. “She’s dangerous, Doctor. She’s dangerous, and crazy, and almost certainly crying crocodile tears. And I’m bloody _pregnant_ now, and I’m not going to let you put our baby in danger.”

“Fine!” the Doctor said, throwing up his arms. “But you still have to tell her.”

Clara sighed. “I know.”

 

* * *

 

Clara steeled herself and walked into the vault. Missy immediately set down the book she was reading and sat up.

“You’re pregnant,” she said.

Clara rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m pregnant.”

Missy’s eyes narrowed. “Where’s hubby?”

Clara just folded her arms.

“You’re fighting,” Missy said.

“He thinks you’re turning good,” Clara said.

“And you don’t.” Missy tsked. “Really, puppy, I had such high hopes for you.”

“Shut up,” Clara said coldly.

“I do hope you have great make-up sex, though,” Missy said, and Clara winced. “Out of curiosity, is that where your little hybrid came from? I know you’ve been fighting for a while, and I’d so love for you to be further indebted to me. You know, beyond just introducing you two.”

“God, I hope not,” Clara said. “I’m just here to let you know, because the Doctor _wants_ me to inform you. So now you know. Piss off and stop asking me about it now.”

Clara spun on her heel and left the vault.

Missy held up a hand, winced, and held it against her forehead. She sat down, removing the brooch the Doctor gave her long ago. A single tear cascaded down her cheek.

“I’m happy for you, Thete,” she whispered. “At least one of us gets to start over.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara takes the Doctor shopping.

Clara shook her head. “Absolutely not.”

The Doctor hung his head like a petulant child and put the Lego set back on the shelf.

“What’s the point of taking me shopping if I can’t get something?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes. “The _point_ is to get things we _need_. Like food.”

“The TARDIS can make food.”

“I don’t _live_ in the TARDIS,” she said. “Much.”

“We can always change that arrangement,” he said, giving her puppy dog eyes.

“We are not discussing this now.”

He slouched. “Fine. Can we at least get ice cream?”

Clara pinched the bridge of her nose. “Yes, we can get ice cream.”

Before she finished her sentence, her dumb space boyfriend had begun an excited penguin run towards the dessert aisle.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara is not happy with the Doctor's latest tinkering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a silly little ficlet I wrote at lunch.

The Doctor was strumming on his guitar, working on a new composition, when Clara stormed into the console room, her hair a complete mess.

“Doctor!” she yelled, so loud he nearly dropped his guitar. “What did you do?!”

He slowly set the guitar down.

“Ah,” he said, “you’ll have to be more specific.”

Clara held up a book; it appeared that something had torn it in half.

“My first edition, _signed_ copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ ,” Clara said. “I set this down on the desk in our bedroom and a drawer snapped open and _tried to eat it!_ ”

“Oh,” he said. “Ah, well…”

Clara walked over to him, fuming. She pulled herself up to her full height, which somehow was very intimidating. Maybe, the Doctor thought, because he was sitting down.

“I was trying to automate the filing system,” he said.

“You what?”

“You bring a lot of papers to that desk, Clara,” he said. “I thought you’d appreciate a desk that can sort your paperwork for you.”

“So you gave it bloody _teeth_?!”

“It’s not supposed to eat things!”

“Well, it ate this,” Clara said, waving the remains of the book in his face. “It better not have eaten all of my students’ work, or so help me…”

“I’ll, ah, have to check.”

Clara just pointed in the general direction of their bedroom.

The Doctor would deny running if he was asked. He was not afraid of Clara Oswald, no sir.

 

* * *

 

“We’re lucky,” the Doctor said from the floor after examining the desk. “The desk doesn’t think your students’ work is particularly appetizing.”

“It shouldn’t _think_ at all.”

“And,” he continued, placing a drawer of shredded paper on the floor, “I can perform isolated temporal retrogression on your book. Reverse it back along its own timeline, restoring it to an undamaged state.”

“That’s a thing?” Clara asked, surprised.

“Clara,” he said, “we’re called Time _Lords_ for a reason.”

“Don’t be condescending,” she said, sticking her tongue out at him before handing over the rest of the shredded book. “Please make sure the desk doesn’t try eating anything else!”

“That may take a while.”

Clara rolled her eyes. “Fine. And next time you do something like modify my desk so it _eats things_ , ask me first.”

“Yes, boss.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thursday morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Found this on my drive. I believe this was once a Tumblr dialog prompt: "You're too comfy."

As Clara awoke, she was aware of two things. One, the Doctor was actually asleep. Two, he was basically on top of her, his leg wrapped around hers and his head on her chest.

“Doctor,” she said, gently shaking him.

“I’m not asleep,” he said immediately.

“Of course not,” Clara said, chuckling. She kissed his forehead. “I don’t usually get to do that. Kiss your forehead.”

He grunted.

Clara glanced at her alarm clock. “You think you could get off me, yeah?”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t want to get up,” the Doctor said. “You’re too comfy.”

Clara rolled her eyes, not that he could see it. “Doctor, I have to go to work.”

“TARDIS, Clara,” he said, snuggling against her. “We can hop back a bit, get you to work on time.”

“That had better work,” she said, gently stroking his hair. “Fine, stay.”

He kissed her sternum. “Thank you.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At St. Luke's, the Doctor reassures Clara after a bad day.

Clara rested her head on the lectern as her students filed out.  She was angry and exhausted, having spent the day fighting misogynistic students who tried to undermine her authority at every turn.

 _Jesus_ , she thought,  _I don’t remember the fifties being this bad.  How could the sixties be even_ worse _?_

As she rested, she heard the Doctor’s voice in her head.

“ _Clara, what’s wrong?_ ” he asked.

“ _Nothing,_ ” she thought back at him.

“ _Clara, I can tell you’re having an emotion, and I’m all the way across campus._ ”

She sighed and began packing her things.  “ _Shitty day,_ ” she said.  “ _I hope you’re having better._ ”

“ _No,_ ” he said.  “ _But at least I don’t have misogynists in my class._ ”

She smiled to herself as she stepped into the hall.

“ _Are you reading my mind again?_ ” she asked.  “ _I want to be annoyed, but I just don’t have the heart for it._ ”

“ _Well, I’m sensing your emotions,_ ” he said.  “ _It’s a collection of emotions that means ‘I’m dealing with sexists and I want to rip their fucking heads off.’_ ”

In that instant, Clara was profoundly grateful for the connection they shared.  He understood, and she didn’t have to explain.

“ _That’s very… specific,_ ” she said.  “ _You can read me that well, yeah?_ ”

“ _Of course I can,_ ” he said.  “ _And I like that batch of emotions._ ”

“ _You do?_ ”

“ _You’re_ feisty _._ ”

Clara frowned.  “ _Don’t call me that again._ ”

“ _Whatever you say, boss,_ ” he said.  She was sure she could hear the smirk in his telepathic voice.

As she crossed the grounds, she said, “ _Do you think you could just stick to the syllabus for your night lecture?_ ”

“ _Why?_ ”

“ _I bet Doctor Stohler five quid that you could._ ”

“ _Clara, that’s cheating,_ ” he chided.  “ _I like it._ ”

Clara laughed, confusing a passing student.  “ _Well, it’s not like he knows we’re telepathic, yeah?_ ”

“ _He knows we’re married,_ ” the Doctor said.  “ _Physics it is, then.  Shame they haven’t come up with even string theory yet._ ”

“ _So suffer with the Standard Model,_ ” she said, teasingly.  “ _Oh, how I pity you._ ”

“ _Shut up,_ ” he said.  “ _It’s not my fault we’re under deep cover._ ”

“ _Yeah, I guess causing a revolutionary breakthrough in physics would break our cover, wouldn’t it?_ ”  She let out a mental sigh.  “ _Thanks for being here for me._ ”

“ _Always._ ”

* * *

 

With a grunt, Clara handed Stohler his five quid as the Doctor came out of the lecture hall.

“Sorry,” the Doctor said as Stohler left.  “A fly kept buzzing me.  I couldn’t  _not_  talk about insects.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Clara said, getting on her tiptoes and kissing him briefly.  “You helped me today.”

“Always will.”

“I know.”  She smiled.  “I like that you can read me like that.”

“Telepathy,” he said.  “But we never actually  _talked_  about what happened to you.”

Clara shrugged.  “It was nice that you already knew.”  She linked arms with him.  “Home?”

“Home.”

As they walked across the darkened campus, the Doctor said, “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?  I could tell you were upset, Clara.”

Clara sighed.  She looked at him and sent him a mental image, a memory of that day.

“Are you kidding?” he said, stopping in his tracks.  “They should be expelled for that!”

“I don’t think it’s  _that_ bad,” Clara said.  “Mind you, I’d  _like_  to see them expelled.”

“Clara, it’s 1963; they’ve had women teachers before.  Susan has them right now!”

Clara smiled sadly at the mention of the Doctor’s granddaughter.  “I’ll show them tomorrow.  Trust me.”

The Doctor laughed.  “I bet you will!”

END


End file.
